


Take Me Back

by lmc_TicDonPete



Series: Peter Parker Whumpy One-Shots [2]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bruce Banner & Tony Stark Friendship, Bruce Banner Needs a Hug, Depressed Peter Parker, Depression, Gen, Hurt Peter Parker, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, May Parker (Spider-Man) & Tony Stark Coparenting Peter Parker, Mentioned May Parker (Spider-Man), Parent Tony Stark, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Precious Peter Parker, Protective Bruce Banner, Protective May Parker (Spider-Man), Protective Tony Stark, References to Depression, Sad, Sad Peter Parker, Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, Suicide Attempt, Teen Peter Parker, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-09
Updated: 2019-05-09
Packaged: 2020-02-28 08:11:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18752452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lmc_TicDonPete/pseuds/lmc_TicDonPete
Summary: Tony realizes what he’s done- what he hasn’t done- far to late. Now, he’s not sure he can fix it. So, he settles to apologizing knowing Peter may never forgive him.He wished they could go back to he day they met and do it all over again. Right.





	Take Me Back

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys, me again... being my depressed self. Once again, passing my pain to Peter’s to feel slightly better. So, thanks for reading. I really appreciate all of you :) New chapter of ‘Just A Kid’ will be our soon so stay tuned.
> 
> This is also a story based off of the song ‘The Night We Met’ by Lord Huron, just so you know.
> 
> Warnings:  
> -Implied Suicide  
> -Depression  
> -Self-Harm  
> -Eating Disorders

I realize this is my fault. I totally get it, I do. I won’t deny it because I know deep down this is all my fault, despite what you’re thinking right now. And I don’t want to be the one to tell you how to feel because that’s a dick move, but no matter what, just know none of this was your fault. If anyone should be guilty, it’s me.

I should have intervened earlier, when I first started realizing what was going on. But I didn’t. And that’s the one thing I’ll regret over everything else in my life. And that’s saying a lot- I’ve done some pretty shitty stuff. But this, this takes the fucking cake, kid. I’ll remember that day like I remember my own birthday, I swear. I don’t necessarily want to, don’t get me wrong, it was the worst day of my life, but it’s not just something you can forget. During the day, I can distract myself with whatever the hell’s in the lab, but it’s hard when you’re not here.

I miss you, but I know you’ll get the help you need at the house. And I know you don’t like it, but it’ll help you more than anyone here can. They’re professionals and May and I are just humans. Not miracle workers.

I would help you, if I could. I wouldn’t have sent you away. But I knew if I didn’t, I would loose you forever. I much rather miss you for a few months than the rest of my life. And yeah, I know it’s hard, Underoos, but it’ll get better. Actually- scratch that. 

I have no idea if it’ll get better, okay. 

If I knew I would tell you but I just fucking don’t. I refuse to give you false hope that you’ll be okay because if you aren’t, than the fact that I lied to you will weigh heavy on my shoulders. There’s probably a lot of burden on you too, huh? I’m sorry I let it get that bad. I just didn’t know what to do so I left it alone. I left you alone. So, when you get home, you march right up to me and you spit in my face. Yell, scream and tear me apart because I deserve it, okay? I ignored you for way too long! Hell, I abandoned you when you needed someone to comfort you. Just promise me, when you get home, that you’ll make sure I feel just as much pain as you were in so that I know what an asshole I was. 

I should have said something when all of this first began. To be honest, there were no signs that anything was wrong at the beginning, or maybe I was just oblivious. I’m an idiot. Anyways, I remember you always walk in with this face-splitting grin that stretched from ear to ear. Your eyes sparkled and no matter what troubled you that day, you always visited me with such a positive attitude. 

You lit the whole place up, kid. Way more than any old fluorescent light bulb could.

Immediately, you’d start spitting of sentences like you’d been holding them in all day (which you probably were). Each one was interesting, I’ll admit it, but I just wish I had paid more attention in the end. I’m disappointed that I can’t remember a single conversation we had. I was busy- to busy for you- and I hate myself for it. No one could ever be to busy for a kid like you, Bambi. I’m sorry. I know you always waited impatiently through school just because you wanted to see me right after. Even if I don’t remember our one-sided conversations, I do remember the smile you had on every afternoon when you saw my car waiting out front. Happy remembers too. He misses you almost as much as I do, kid.

We don’t know what to do, Peter. It’s lonely without you despite so many people always waking around and working. I just want to see you back home, happy. I’d wait forever just to see you smile the same way you did months ago. 

Your smile had always been contagious.

And then, I remember the day you came in silently. There was tension in the air, it was thick and warm and I remember the cloud of anxiety that settle down in my gut that day. You had thrown your backpack where you always did- the left hand corner by your work table. That was the only noise you made. I had called your name, and it took a few moments before you actually answered and I saw that beautiful grin of yours. The anxiety bubble had melted away with that single look.

You sure do know how to tell a story with your eyes, Pete.

The day has gone by as usual, but when I asked why you were so quiet earlier all you said was that you were tired. I should have taken that into consideration, but I had blown it off. You didn’t look that tired. Sure, your eyes dropped a tad bit, and you weren’t as bubbly and energetic, but you definitely didn’t look tired. God, was I wrong.

We ordered pizza- one Hawaiian because your taste buds are fucking psycho, and one plain cheese, because my taste beads are normal- and you ate one slice. Just the one. And I know I’m not the most observant or worrisome (obviously), but I was concerned because you usually eat at least three pieces. Your metabolism demands food and you had no problem full-filling that need. You loved food. You said it wasn’t because of the taste, but because you knew that whenever we had good food, it was made with care and love. I told you it was cliche because- duh- it was. But now that you’re gone, I think I finally understand what you meant.

Constant takeout gets boring after awhile. Without you here to help me cook, I’m afraid my skills haven’t gotten any better. In my defense, I haven’t been practicing. I’ve been busy. But not too busy to not constantly be thinking of you. Trust me, you’re all I think about now-a-days. I’m always worrying.

Anyways, I miss the homemade food we used to make together. That was the good stuff, not take out Thai or burned scrambled eggs. I still can’t believe I manage to fuck up eggs. When we make food in the kitchen, you can practically smell the care you put into it. It’s a true talent you have, Peter. 

Even though you were a little quieter, when I asked if you wanted to have a movie marathon, you said yes.

One day, you came in late. I wasn’t angry, I had joked about it because it wasn’t a big deal at the time. I hadn’t take into account the difference in appearance you had after a week of not seeing you. Something about “extra decathlon practice”. Yeah, right. We both know that’s definitely not what it was. When you came in that day, you didn’t put your backpack in its usual place. Instead, you placed it on the metal table and curled your arms up on top of it, stuffing your face into the crook of your elbow.

When I turned around to say hello and saw you in that position, I shut my mouth and turned away. Not because I didn’t care, but I know it looked like that. I just... thought you have a bad day or something, so I let you be. I left you alone to think.

Who knew leaving you alone with your thoughts was such a stupid idea?

I remember staring at you for a minute or two, Underoos. I don’t know if you could feel me staring, but I was. You hadn’t said anything for over twenty minutes, and I knew something was wrong. I, begrudgingly, stood from my seat and made my way over to you to see what was up. I had my hand on your shoulder and hen I realized you were asleep. And I don’t know why, but I smiled. If I had known why you had suddenly passed out in the lab, I definitely wouldn’t have smiled. But I didn’t know.

That’s why this is my fault.

I offered to buy some takeout and you said no. That was sign number two. The first one being the fact that you were exhausted for no reason. Peter, you told me you had just eaten an hour earlier at school. You had lied to me. That was sign number three: the lies. You lied to me about almost everything. I asked if there was a reason you suddenly started wearing only hoodies and you told me it was cold in school so it was easier to just wear a hoodie. You lied whenever I asked if you were hungry- you always said no. I asked if you were getting enough sleep and you said yes but you fucking weren’t!

You were exhausted, Peter. I looked at you every day and saw the bags that hung from your eyes get darker and darker every day. I knew something was wrong. Why didn’t you just tell me?

No, that’s stupid, I’m sorry. This isn’t your fault. I hadn’t been looking at the obvious signs. I don’t know how I could have been such an idiot for being called a ‘genius’ all my life. Guess I’m an Idiotic Genius. 

You know what that was, Pete? That was an oxymoron. I had asked you to review a sheet for me for grammar mistakes and you said there were none, but when I went over it again, I found more than five. That was sign number four: doing bad in school. You are a genius, kid. I had no idea what happened when you suddenly had an ‘F’ in almost every single one of your classes. Then, I find out your skipping classes regularly? How do you think I felt knowing my prodigy is setting himself up for failure out of the blue?

Now of course, I wasn’t aware of the battle being held between your ears. I’m sorry for yelling at you that one night. You didn’t deserve that.

I just didn’t want to see the boy I thought of as a son to fail for no apparent reason. You always had big dreams, and I knew you couldn't follow them unless your grades were perfect.  I was just trying to help, but I suppose I did the exact opposite. I made a lot of mistakes that night. One of those being sending you home alone, knowing May was out of town visiting an old friend.

I invited you over the next day and I was surprised when you actually came. I thought you’d still be angry with me, but when I thought about it again, you hadn’t seemed all that angry the night I snapped at you. You just kinda stood there while I pounded on you. Verbally, of course. I was still happy you came though. I felt guilty about yelling all night.

I asked if you wanted to watch a movie marathon, and you said sure so I knew you were still there.

The week after that, when I called you to ask if you were still coming to visit, you didn’t pick up. I don’t know if you knew that. I called you, and you never answered and that’s when I found you. So, thanks for not answering. Though, it would have been ideal if you had picked up and then I would have known you were okay.

Before that though, a few more signs made themselves present, and I ignored all of them. Like I said, I hate myself for doing that. The fifth sign: you stopped coming over. I questioned you multiple times and I got the same bullshit answer every time. “I’m too tired,” or “I have school work to catch up on,” when I knew for a fact you didn’t  because your grades were still in the gutter. I asked you to confront your teacher and ask for additional work to get you caught up. You didn’t. You said you did and then you didn’t.

But I was hopeful a piece of you was still buried deep down in that small, skeleton body that you created for yourself. I was insensitive about the whole eating thing too, so I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have told you to just eat an apple.

I should have know you couldn’t.

When you didn’t answer my call that night, my hope of holding onto that small sunshine you still had inside you faded away into nothingness. I flew straight for your apartment and made it there in less than five minutes. I broke one repulser, but I was not about to slow down for anything. Your life was hanging in the balance. I couldn’t just slow down. I’m glad I didn’t.

I found you in the bathtub, your back held up by the side of the tub. You were smart. You knew if you had your body upright there was a higher chance of asphyxiation and the pills wouldn’t have a chance to come back up as easy. There was vomit and blood all over your shirt. I had never screamed so loud before in my life. I rushed you back to the tower to get you medical help and I say by your end the whole time as they pumped your stomach to get rid of the pills you took. Two whole bottles, Peter. Of medication you knew had negative effects when mixed together. You pulled out all the stops, kiddo.

It was hectic in the bathroom. I was terrified. I  yanked your body out of the bathtub and laid your head in my lap, my hands on either side of your head. I opened each one of you eyes and saw the same empty stare you held the past couple of months. I think you were unconscious, but tears started to well in your eyes and I thought that maybe your mind was still conscious, you just couldn’t move. It was obvious you had been crying previous to my arrival. Your eyes ere all red and puffy.

I’m just glad you made it there in time.

And I know you hate me. You have the right to hate me. I was the one who saved you. I was the one who put you in the rehabilitation house without consulting you first. That was all me. I knew if I had even mentioned the idea of a RH, you would immediately shut me down. I had to do what I thought was best for you.

It doesn’t mean I miss you any less, Bambi. I miss you so fucking much.

So does Happy, and Pepper and Bruce. They’re all counting down the days until you can come home. I don’t count on you coming back to me, I know your angry. You don’t have to. I’ll just be happy knowing you’re okay. 

If you aren’t okay, you can come back to me. I promise I won’t send you off to anymore more houses. I did that out of sheer fear for your life. There was no way I was about to let you walk back to your apartment and stay their alone. I’m going to be honest, I didn’t trust you. 

May came home, I told her what happened and she’s also waiting impatiently for your arrival home. We all miss you more than anything.  I know you didn’t think we’d miss you, but you aren’t even dead and we still miss you like crazy. You told me all about the past months after the stomach pumping, when you were actually conscious and ready to talk. You told me about the cuts on your thighs and hips, and even the spare few on your wrists. And you should never think you aren’t worth a life, Peter. You’re worth more than anything else on this Planet, kiddo.

Everyone loves you, I just don’t understand where the mindset of ‘I’m not worthy’ came from. And the eating thing. Seeing you so small and thin scars me more than the cuts you made on yourself. If I didn’t die from overdose, id thought for sure you’d die of malnutrition. Thank god you didn’t.

Sometimes I wish I never came to your apartment to invite you to Germany. Not because I didn’t believe you could fight or anything like that. It was too much stress to put on a fifteen year old still in school. I wasn’t thinking about you or how it would effect your life. Even though you were the best thing that ever happened to me, I wish I could go back and tell myself to sit back down- not to go get you. Maybe if you didn’t have the stress of being a real hero, you wouldn’t have tried to kill your self. 

Was it because of me? I mean, yeah, I know part of it was my fault, but was all of it me? Did you hurt yourself because of me? I keep thinking that if I had recognized the way you refused to change into your suit in front of me, or how I always got calls from the school saying you refused to dress out in PE, I would have realized what you were doing to yourself. I could have stopped you. So, don’t answer those questions, I guess.

I know it was all my fault.

I just can’t wait for you to come home so I can hug you and give you a real apology.

You'll never know how sorry I am. I’m sorry I didn’t realize that I had started losing you. One week I had all of you- your happy, bubbly self that spat words a mile-a-minute and always smiled. The next month, you talked only when spoken to but you were still there. There was still a light and sparkle in your eyes. A month later, you stopped eating completely and I didn't think you slept for days but I ignored it. You were always shivering- probably cause you were so cold, you had no fat or muscle to keep you warm anymore. But, when I asked you what type of upgrades you wanted on your suit, your eyes lit up- only slightly- and you told me what you wanted.

Nearly a year later, you were gone. You refused to come over, you had sliced your thighs and hips into oblivion and you called me every night at three in the morning, asking me to tell you a story because you couldn’t sleep. When I mentioned the lab, you frowned. You stayed in your room all day and skipped school at least three times every week. You wouldn’t talk- to anyone. Not to me, or Happy or Pepper or Bruce, let alone May! We were terrified for you.

I asked if you wanted to have a movie marathon, and you said no.

That was how I knew I had lost you.

Yet I still didn’t do anything. I knew I should have forced you to stay with me while your aunt was out, but I didn’t. I thought you needed space. I guess you just needed someone to take care of you or you wouldn’t be stuck in a dark house full of other depressed people. I still don’t know if that will help you any- they all seemed to be far along in their recovery and you were just starting. I how they can help you though. I wish I could have helped you.

That night you refused to come over, I went to Bruce. Pepper was put on business and Happy was down in the garage and Bruce was just the closest, most sane person here. I asked him what to do with you. I don’t know if you know this, and I don’t think it’s my place to say, but Bruce has had his fair share of depression and suicide. He still suffers from it now- my eyes are constantly on him. I should have done the same to you. Anyways, I asked him what to do and he told me to go and talk to you. He said to confront you harshly, but not with anger or malice. Bruce said I should have sat you down and not let you leave until you spilled because thats what it took for him to open up. But, he also said not to pressure. Don’t ask to many questions that were straight forward. Bruce told me to make you feel comfortable enough so that you trusted me with your feelings.

God, that sounded so cliche.

But it’s true I guess. I really should have tried harder. I should have made sure you knew that you matter and that your life wasn’t a waste. You are useful- not matter what you may think. You definitely aren’t worthless. You’ve done more for me than anyone else ever could. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t come into my life. I’d probably still be drinking. Hell, I wouldn’t even get out of bed in the morning if you weren’t there to say good morning.

We all love you. We all miss you more than we ever thought we could. We’ll be waiting for you when you come back and I swear I’ll give you the biggest hug known to mankind. And I know I don’t say this much- me ego wont allow it- but...

I love you, Peter.

And if you had died that night-

I _know_  it would have been on me.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I’m literally crying writing this. I’m depressed and dying and writing makes me happy so here you go.
> 
> If you enjoyed, please feel free to comment, leave kudos and save for later! Lots of love- lmc <3


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